


honey, touch me up

by openmouthwideeye



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9775511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/openmouthwideeye/pseuds/openmouthwideeye
Summary: Jaime needs a favor. Brienne needs convincing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who liked, reblogged, and said sweet things about my ill-advised, tipsy, last minute Valentine's Day fic. It's your fault I've decided to post this. Written for JB Online's V-Day Fic Fest.
> 
> Not beta'd. All mistakes are mine.

“You’ve got to be joking.” Brienne dropped her tasteful satin purse on Jaime’s floor, if only so her hands were free to strangle him. The cockier he made his smile, the harder her fingernails dug into her palms. 

“Come on, wench. You’d love to tangle your hands in my hair and bend me to your will.” Her hard look quelled whatever innuendo his runaway tongue had formed, and his smile morphed into a grimace. “Alright, look. Normally I have a girl for this, but everything came up so last minute, and–”

“I was at a _wedding_ ,” she reminded him in clipped tones. 

Stepping out of her flats, she gathered the hem of her absurdly sparkly, floor-length gown in a fist, wondering how much Donyse would hate her if she ripped it. Stalking angrily towards Jaime Lannister had never presented this much of a challenge before. 

He snorted, popping out his cufflinks one by one. With almost tantalizing slowness he rolled his sleeves, stepping out of his own shoes and toeing them neatly under the bar. He could’ve have been her date, some traitorous part of her whispered, dressed to the nines in black pants and a rumpled tuxedo shirt. 

As if anyone would believe he’d come with her.

“You were suffering through the dying gasps of a wedding reception,” Jaime pointed out. “An ostentatious, black tie non-optional wedding reception for some girl you barely know. Even _I_  was having more fun, and I was with my father. And not wearing flayed man pink.” 

His eyes raked across her dress, raising heat everywhere they touched. She tried not to imagine the glint in them was anything other than light reflecting off the sequins. She knew she looked even more ridiculous than usual. Dress options were severely limited for a woman her height. 

“If you didn’t breathe a prayer to the Crone when my name flashed across your caller ID, I’ll drive you back for the sparklers send-off myself.”

Brienne crossed her arms. The sequins scratched as if to remind her of how miserable she’d been. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll do it.”

Jaime grinned, hiking his shirt over his head without bothering to undo the buttons. From the sound of skittering plastic across the hardwood, his seamstress would pay for it.

“Excellent. I have everything we need in the bathroom, I just–” He made a sound that bordered on sinful, taking in the freckled expanse of Brienne’s thighs as she hiked up her dress.

She raised her chin, blushing, and took some small satisfaction in rendering him speechless. “You don’t expect me to stay in this dress, do you?”

Jaime blinked, green eyes oddly hazy in the bright light of his apartment. “Best not,” he said hoarsely. “That color does nothing for you.”

When he made no move toward the bedroom, she gestured impatiently.

“Right. I’ll just …”

Trailing off, he swallowed hard. Doing an abrupt about face, he disappeared into the bedroom, presumably to retrieve a spare pair of sweats.

Feeling suddenly awkward, Brienne wandered into the bathroom. The lights were over-bright, highlighting every insecurity from the roots of her straw-like hair to the place where her thick, sequined thighs disappeared behind the counter. Grimacing, she grabbed the little box and turned it over in her hands, studying the gleaming, silvered script. 

_#7 Gorgeous Gold for Greying Guys._

She couldn’t believe Jaime Lannister touched up his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is love <3


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